


Ultimate Survivor

by Mornelithe_falconsbane



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kaito probably has first aid training, M/M, Rantaro Doesn't Die, Right?, right - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mornelithe_falconsbane/pseuds/Mornelithe_falconsbane
Summary: Clues were what you used when you didn’t catch a murderer red-handed--Shuichi threw open the doors as soon as he reached them.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 97
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	Ultimate Survivor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilMuffins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/gifts).



The music blares through the halls, echoing in Shuichi’s eardrums and rattling his teeth every time he passes a speaker. He stumbles, half-catching himself on the staircase landing, and Kaede isn’t behind him, she’s only just leaving the classroom.

He knows in his bones that they have no time for this, that if he wants to solve a mystery then his timing meant far more than his brain. Clues are what you used when you didn’t catch a murderer red-handed.

The library door is closed when he reaches it, and he rips it open without thinking, only realizing he’s alone when he sees Rantaro standing in front of where they’d set up the camera, the bookshelf open, the door behind it gaping, and--

Something small and heavy falls from the bookshelf above Rantaro, moving fast enough that fell behind him, heavy enough that Shuichi feels the reverberation of its landing thrumming through the soles of his shoes.

Rantaro jolts upright, looking over his shoulder as Shuichi shouts something--he has no idea what

\--and Tsumugi slams the black thing in her hand into Rantaro’s head. The crack of metal on bone is audible over the blaring music, the flash of neon pink shocking bright on Tsumugi’s hands. 

Rantaro staggers, collapses. It happens so fast.

The music stops. 

Kaede bursts through the door behind him, and behind her, Tenko and Kaito. Tsumugi disappears into the hidden room with a muffled shriek, and the door starts closing.

He should--do something. Kaede’s charging down the centre of the library, Tenko hard on her heels and they both slide into the open door just before it seals. Shuichi’s standing in the doorway, a scream caught between his teeth and he can see the vivid shock of Rantaro’s blood painted on the back of his eyelids.

In time, but still too late. Why had he expected more of himself? He should have--

“You okay?” Kaito asks, his hand on Shuichi’s shoulder. His eyes are wide and earnest, filled with useless concern for Shuichi. “What happened? Was that Tsumugi?”

Shuichi shrugged off Kaito’s hand, stumbling deeper into the library, his eyes locked on the smears of pink on the dark carpet. He could have done something, couldn’t he? He _should_ have done something. He hadn’t, and he’d gotten Rantaro killed.

“Whoa, Shuichi, man. You don’t look too good--” Kaito grabs at his arm and Shuichi dodges, forcing himself to take those last few steps. He needs to see. Has to witness the end result of his pathetic weakness.

His cowardice means Shuichi turns the corner with his eyes squeezed shut, the scent of what has to be blood settling in his lungs as his breath comes in too fast. 

“Is that _blood_ \--” Kaito squawks, and Shuichi realizes that Kaito hadn’t _known_ , and oh fuck that made sense. “The music stopped,” Kaito says, and Shuichi hears the knowledge sink into Kaito. He makes a sound like he’s been stabbed, soft and startled and hurt.

_“Help.”_

Shuichi opens his eyes.

Rantaro’s staring at him, blood streaming down the side of his head, his shoulder angled wrong inside his shirt. “I...please,” Rantaro breathes out, shaking like he’s dying, but he’s not yet, he’s not--

Kaito shoves Shuichi out of the way and drops to his knees by Rantaro like he knows what he’s doing. “Rantaro, hey, hey, how you doing, man? Hit your head? Tell me where it hurts, dude, we’ll get you through this.”

Other people come staggering in, all of them loud, and Shuichi can’t help but to feel like the ground is falling apart under his feet.

Rantaro looks like shit, but he’s not dead.

 _What were the rules for failed murder_ , Shuichi wonders faintly, staggering into the corner and dropping to his knees. He needs to sit for a second.

Rantaro keeps making soft, hitching gasps that Shuichi realizes are choked sobs when he sees the tears streaking down Rantaro’s face. And Rantaro’s staring at him, half his face masked in slick pink.

There’s so much blood. Shuichi can’t look away.

He doesn’t remember the rest of the night.

***

The dining hall windows brighten slowly with the dawn, an utter absence of birdsong filtering around soft breathing. Shuichi wakes slowly, his thoughts fragmented and scattered. Kaede’s in front of him, lying on the grass with only her backpack as a pillow. 

He’s pushed back in the corner, folded awkwardly in on himself, and his neck aches when he straightens out. Gonta’s snoring softly on the floor in front of the door, Tenko slumped next to him like she’s standing guard. 

Kaito’s sitting at one of the tables, fast asleep. They’d put Rantaro on the table, a pillow under his head and a blanket draped over his still body. Shuichi rises to his feet. 

Rantaro’s eyes are open, staring at the ceiling, and Shuichi’s stomach twists in on itself as he steps over Kaede, pulled closer by some morbid, fucked-up curiosity. They hadn’t covered his face--

Sharp green eyes flick toward him, and Shuichi’s heart stuttered behind his too-tight ribs. Rantaro’s mouth twitched up at the corners, his chest rising and falling slow and steady as he breathed.

“You’re alive,” Shuichi whispers, trying not to wake anyone else.

Green fabric tied Rantaro’s arm to his chest. Was it Gonta’s jacket? It looked like the right colour. The pink of spilled blood still clung to his eyelashes, lent a bright cast to Rantaro’s pale cheeks. “Thank you,” Rantaro whispers back.

The others are scattered around the hall, all of them except Tsumugi. “Where is she?” Shuichi whispers, looking around the room. She’d tried to murder Rantaro--fuck, she’d gone through the secret room.

“They lost her in the hidden room,” Kaito says, just as quiet as they were. “How are you feeling?”

Shuichi takes too long to realize that Kaito was talking to him, not Rantaro. “I’m fine. Rantaro...?”

“I’ll live,” Rantaro says, his smile turning wry. “You distracted her. She missed. More or less, anyway.”

“I think she broke his collarbone,” Kaito says, his hand covering his mouth as he yawned. “It’s not too bad.”

“I’m glad,” Shuichi says, knowing as he says it that he’s being stupidly earnest, that it sounds like-- “not that she broke it, that you’re not dead, I thought--I thought that she’d killed you.”

Rantaro smiles with his eyes as much as with his mouth. It’s--something. Shuichi wants to clean the blood off his cheek. “She would have. Guess I should have trusted you, huh?”

“What?” Shuichi asks dumbly, feeling like he’s missing something, but not a clue what. Rantaro’s smile is flat and nearly gone, and Shuichi feels scraped out and empty with the loss.

“Ah...I’ve got some stuff to tell you, I guess.” Rantaro reaches for Shuichi with his good hand and instinctively Shuichi holds out his own like they’re going to shake hands or something.

But Rantaro’s palm is warm against his, and his grip is firm as he squeezes Shuichi’s hand for--god, it’s at least three seconds. Shuichi feels a little dizzy, a little stupid. His face feels hot.

Rantaro’s smile returns.


End file.
